**Source: PSS vol. 4**

I arrived first in Zurich, arrived alone and had not seen Arsenyev (Potresov) before. In Zurich P. B. met me with open arms, and I spent two days in very intimate conversation. The conversation was like that between friends who had not seen each other for a long time: about everything and much else, without order, entirely unrelated to business. On business matters P. B. generally cannot *mitsprechen kann*[139]; it was noticeable that he was leaning toward G. V.'s side, noticeable from how he insisted on setting up a printing house for the journal in Geneva. In general P. B. greatly "flattered" us (forgive the expression), saying that everything for them was connected with our enterprise, that it was a rebirth for them, that "we" would now have the opportunity to argue against G. V.'s extremes – I paid particular attention to this last point, and the whole subsequent "historia" showed that these were particularly remarkable words.

Things proceeded this way until the conference (a conference of the entire "Emancipation of Labor" group, G. V., P. B., and V. I., and us two in the absence of our third{102}). Finally, P. V. arrived, and the conference was organized. On the question of our attitude toward the Jewish Union (the Bund), G. V. displays phenomenal intolerance, declaring it directly not a social-democratic organization but simply an exploitative one, exploiting Russians, saying that our goal is to drive this Bund out of the party, that Jews are sheer chauvinists and nationalists, that the Russian party must be Russian and not allow itself to be "taken captive" by "this vile tribe" and so on. None of our objections to these improper remarks led to anything, and G. V. remained completely with his position, saying that we simply lack knowledge of Jewry, practical experience in dealing with Jews. No resolution was adopted on this question. We read together at the conference a "statement": G. V. behaved strangely, remained silent, proposed no changes, did not protest against what permitted polemics there, generally seemed to be withdrawing, precisely withdrawing, unwilling to participate and only in passing, casually, threw a venomous and malicious remark that he (they, that is, the "Emancipation of Labor" group, in which he is dictator) would certainly not have written such a statement. Thrown in passing, added incidentally to some phrase of different content, this remark of G. V. struck me particularly unpleasantly: a meeting of co-editors is taking place, and here one of the co-editors (whom we asked twice to give his project for a statement or a project for revising our statement) proposes no changes, but only sarcastically remarks that he would certainly not have written it that way (not so timidly, modestly, opportunistically – that is what he meant to say). This already clearly showed that normal relations between him and us did not exist. Further – passing over less important questions at the conference – the question arises about our attitude toward Bobo and Mikh. Iv. We stand for conditional invitation (G. V.'s harshness inevitably pushed us toward this: we wanted to show thereby that we desired different relations. G. V.'s incredible harshness somehow instinctively pushes toward protest, toward defense of his opponents. Vera Ivanovna noted very subtly that G. V. always polemicizes in such a way as to evoke sympathy in the reader for his opponent). G. V. declares his complete disagreement very coldly and dryly and demonstratively remains silent throughout all our rather lengthy conversations with P. B. and V. I., who are not unwilling to agree with us. This entire morning passes under an extremely heavy atmosphere: the matter takes on such an appearance that G. V. is issuing an ultimatum – either him or inviting these "scoundrels". Seeing this, we both with Arsenyev decided to yield, and from the very beginning of the evening session declared that "at G. V.'s insistence" we were withdrawing. This declaration was met with silence (as if it were understood of itself that we cannot but yield!). This "atmosphere of ultimatums" (as Arsenyev later formulated it) irritated us considerably – G. V.'s desire to rule without limit manifested itself obviously. Earlier, when we had conversed privately about Bobo (G. V., Arsenyev, V. I., and I, in the forest, walking in the evening), G. V. declared after heated argument, laying his hand on my shoulder: "I, gentlemen, do not set conditions; we shall discuss all this together at the conference and decide together". At that time this deeply moved me. But it turned out that at the conference the opposite occurred: at the conference G. V. withdrew from comradely discussion, sat in angry silence and through his silence obviously "set a condition". For me this was a stark manifestation of insincerity (although I had not yet formulated my impressions so clearly at once), and Arsenyev directly declared: "I shall not forget this yielding to him!". Saturday arrives. I do not recall precisely what was discussed that day, but in the evening, when we all went together, a new conflict flared up. G. V. said that it was necessary to commission someone (who had not yet appeared in literature, but in whom G. V. wanted to see philosophical talent; I did not know this person; he is known for his blind reverence before G. V.){103} to write an article on a philosophical theme, and here G. V. says: I shall advise him to begin the article with a remark against Kautsky – fine fellow indeed, who has already become a "critic", passes philosophical articles by "critics" in *Neue Zeit*[142] and does not give full scope to "Marxists" (that is, to Plekhanov). Having heard about the project of such a sharp attack against Kautsky (already invited as a contributor to the journal), Arsenyev was outraged and hotly protested against this, finding it inappropriate. G. V. swelled up and became embittered; I sided with Arsenyev. P. B. and V. I. remained silent. Half an hour later G. V. left (we accompanied him to the boat), and during this final time he sat in silence, blacker than a storm cloud. When he left, it suddenly felt easier for all of us and the conversation took on a better tone. The next day, on Sunday (today is September 2, Sunday. So this was only a week ago!!! And yet it seems to me that it was a year ago! It has already receded so far!), the meeting was appointed not at our place, at the dacha, but at G. V.'s. We arrive there – Arsenyev arrived first, I after. G. V. sends out P. B. and V. I. to tell Arsenyev that he, G. V., refuses co-editorship and wants to be a simple contributor: P. B. left, V. I. completely flustered, beside himself, mumbles to Arsenyev: "George is dissatisfied, does not want..."  I enter. G. V. opens the door for me and offers his hand with a somewhat strange smile, then leaves. I enter the room where V. I. and Arsenyev are sitting with strange expressions. Well, what is it, gentlemen? – I say. G. V. enters and calls us into his room. There he declares that it would be better if he were a contributor, a simple contributor, because otherwise there will only be friction, that he apparently looks at the matter differently than we do, that he understands and respects our party point of view, but cannot adopt it himself. Let us be editors, and let him be a contributor. We were completely taken aback upon hearing this, absolutely dumbfounded, and began to refuse. Then G. V. says: well, if together, then how shall we vote; how many votes? – Six. – Six is inconvenient. – "Well, let G. V. have two votes," V. P. intercedes, "otherwise he will always be alone – two votes on matters of tactics". We agree. Then G. V. takes hold of the reins of governance and begins in the tone of an editor to distribute departments and articles for the journal, assigning these departments now to one, now to another of those present – in a tone that admits no objection. We all sit as if we had been thrust into water, passively agreeing with everything and not yet being in a state to digest what had happened. We feel that we have been made fools of, that our remarks are becoming ever more timid, that G. V. is "pushing aside" them (not refuting, but pushing aside) ever more easily and ever more carelessly, that the "new system" *de facto*[143] is completely equivalent to G. V.'s complete rule and that G. V., perfectly understanding this, does not hesitate to rule to the full and does not stand on ceremony with us. We realized that we had been completely duped and utterly defeated, but had not yet fully grasped our position. However, as soon as we were alone, as soon as we left the boat and went to our dacha, – we both were immediately seized, and we burst forth with enraged and most embittered tirades against G. V.

But before I recount the content of these tirades and where they led, I shall first make a small digression and go back. Why were we so outraged by the idea of Plekhanov's complete rule (regardless of the form of his rule)? Earlier we always thought thus: we would be editors, and they would be the closest participants. I proposed this formally from the very beginning (even from Russia); Arsenyev proposed not to set it formally, but rather to act better "in a friendly way" (which would come to the same thing) – I agreed. But both of us were agreed that we should be editors both because the "old-timers" are extremely intolerant and because they would not be able to conduct properly the black and heavy work of editorship: only these considerations decided the matter for us, and their ideological guidance we were quite willing to recognize. My conversations in Geneva with Plekhanov's closest comrades and younger supporters (members of the "Social-Democrat" group{104}, long-time supporters of Plekhanov, workers – not laborers but workers – simple, practical people, wholly devoted to Plekhanov), these conversations completely strengthened me (and Arsenyev) in the thought that we should approach the matter precisely this way: these supporters themselves declared to us, without circumlocution, that it was desirable for the editorial office to be in Germany, because this would make us more independent of G. V., that if the old-timers held the actual editorial work in their hands, this would be equivalent to terrible delays and possibly failure of the enterprise altogether. And Arsenyev stood unconditionally for Germany on those very grounds.

I stopped in my account of how "Iskra" nearly went out at our return home in the evening on Sunday, August 26, new style. As soon as we were alone, having left the boat, we directly burst forth with a flood of expressions of indignation. It was as if we had been released; the heavy atmosphere burst into a thunderstorm. We walked until late evening from one end to the other of our little village; the night was rather dark, storms moved about all around and lightning flashed. We walked and were indignant! I remember that Arsenyev began by declaring that his personal relations with Plekhanov were now once and for all broken and would never be renewed: business relations would remain – personally I am *fertig*[144] with him. His behavior was insulting – to such a degree that it forces us to suspect him of very "unclean" thoughts about us (that is, that he mentally equates us with Strebers[145]). He treats us as inferiors, and so on. I entirely supported these accusations. My "infatuation" with Plekhanov was also swept away as if by a hand, and it was painful and bitter for me to an incredible degree. Never, never in my life have I related to any human being with such sincere respect and reverence, *vénération*, nor have I held myself before anyone with such "humility" – and never experienced such a crude "kick". But in fact it turned out precisely so: we received a kick: we were frightened like children, frightened with the threat that the adults would abandon us and leave us alone, and when we became cowardly (what shame!), we were pushed aside with incredible discourtesy. We now understood completely clearly that Plekhanov's morning declaration about his refusal of co-editorship was a simple trap, a calculated chess move, a snare for naive "dandies": this could not be subject to any doubt, for if Plekhanov sincerely feared co-editorship, feared it would slow down the work, feared it would breed unnecessary friction among us – he could not in any way, a minute later, reveal (and reveal brutally) that his co-editorship was completely equivalent to his sole editorship. Well, if a man with whom we want to conduct close common work, entering into the most intimate relations with him, if such a man employs a chess move against comrades – then there is no reason to doubt that this man is a bad man, precisely a bad man, that in him are strong motives of personal, petty vanity and conceit, that he is an insincere man. This revelation – it was a real revelation for us! – struck us like a thunderbolt because both of us had been infatuated with Plekhanov and, as with a loved one, forgave him everything, closed our eyes to all his faults, convinced ourselves with all our strength that these faults did not exist, that they were trifles, that only people insufficiently valuing principles paid attention to these trifles. And here we ourselves had to see clearly that these "trivial" faults were capable of repelling even the most devoted friends, that no conviction of theoretical correctness could make one forget his repellent qualities. Our indignation was infinitely great: the ideal was shattered, and we trampled it underfoot with pleasure, like a toppled idol: the sharpest accusations knew no end. This cannot be! we decided. We do not want and will not, cannot work together under such conditions. Farewell, journal! We abandon everything and go to Russia, and there we shall set the work in order anew, and confine ourselves to a newspaper. We will not be pawns in the hands of this man; he does not permit, does not understand comradely relations. We do not venture to take editorship upon ourselves, and besides, it would now be simply repugnant, it would look precisely as if we were chasing only editorial positions, as if we were Strebers, careerists, as if in us too spoke the same vanity, only on a smaller scale... It is difficult to describe with sufficient accuracy our state of mind that evening: such a complex, heavy, murky state of spirit it was! It was a real drama, a complete rupture with that which I had carried about, as with a beloved child, for long years, with which I had inseparably connected all my life's work. And all because we had been infatuated with Plekhanov: had it not been for this infatuation, had we related to him more coldly, more evenly, had we looked at him somewhat more from the side – we would have behaved differently toward him and would not have experienced such, literally speaking, a collapse, such a "moral bath", in the perfectly apt expression of Arsenyev. This was the most stark lesson in life, offensively stark, offensively brutal. The younger comrades "courted" the elder out of enormous love for him – and he suddenly introduces into this love an atmosphere of intrigue and makes them feel not like younger brothers but like fools being led by the nose, pawns that can be moved at will, and sometimes even like unskillful Strebers who need to be frightened and suppressed more firmly. And infatuated youth receives from the object of its love a bitter instruction: one must relate to all people "without sentiment", one must keep a stone in one's bosom. An endless number of such bitter words we spoke that evening. The suddenness of the collapse naturally gave rise to no little exaggeration, but in essence these bitter words were true. Blinded by our infatuation, we conducted ourselves essentially as slaves, and to be a slave is an unworthy thing, and the sting of this consciousness was increased a hundredfold by the fact that it was "he" himself who opened our eyes to it on our own skin...

We finally went to our rooms to sleep with the firm resolution to tell Plekhanov tomorrow of our indignation, refuse the journal, and leave, keeping only a newspaper and publishing journal material as pamphlets: the matter would not suffer from this, we thought, and we would free ourselves from close relations with "this man".

The next morning I wake earlier than usual: the sound of footsteps on the stairs wakes me and the voice of P. B., who is knocking on Arsenyev's door. I hear Arsenyev respond, open the door – hear this and think to myself: will Arsenyev have the courage to say everything at once? and it would be better to say it at once, it is necessary to say it at once, not to delay the matter. Having washed and dressed, I enter Arsenyev's room, who is washing. Axelrod is sitting in an armchair with a somewhat strained expression. "Here, NN," Arsenyev addresses me, "I told P. B. of our decision to go to Russia, of our conviction that matters cannot be conducted this way". I entirely agree, of course, and support Arsenyev. Without hesitation, we tell Axelrod everything, so without hesitation that Arsenyev even says that we suspect that Plekhanov considers us Strebers. Axelrod generally half sympathizes with us, shaking his head bitterly and appearing in the last degree upset, flustered, confused, but here protests energetically and cries that that is not true, that Plekhanov has various faults, but not this one, that here it is not he who is unjust to us but we to him, that up to now he was ready to say to Plekhanov: "you see what you have done – sort it out yourself, I wash my hands of it", but now he does not venture to, because he sees an unjust attitude on our part as well. His assurances, of course, made little impression on us, and poor P. B. looked utterly pitiful, convincing himself that our decision was firm.

We left together and went to warn V. I. It was to be expected that she would take the news of the "rupture" (for the matter was taking on precisely the appearance of a rupture) especially heavily. I even fear – Arsenyev had said the day before – I seriously fear that she might take her own life...

I shall never forget the frame of mind with which we three went out: "we are going as if to a funeral," I said to myself. And indeed, we walked as if to a funeral, in silence, eyes downcast, depressed to the last degree by the absurdity, wildness, senselessness of the loss. As if some curse! Everything was being arranged for the better – arranged after such long misfortunes and failures – and suddenly a whirlwind swept down – and that was the end, everything collapses again. It was somehow impossible to believe oneself [precisely as one does not believe oneself when in the fresh impression of the death of a close person] – could it be that I, a fervent worshiper of Plekhanov, am now speaking of him with such malice and going, with compressed lips and with devilish cold in my soul, to speak to him cold and sharp things, to announce to him almost a "rupture of relations"? Could it be that this is not a bad dream but reality?

This impression did not pass even during the conversation with V. I. She did not show particularly sharp agitation, but it was evident that she was terribly depressed, and she begged, almost implored, could we not after all renounce our decision, could we not perhaps try, perhaps in practice it would not be so terrible, at work the relations would improve, at work his repellent traits of character would not be so visible... This was painfully difficult – to listen to these sincere requests of a person weak before Plekhanov, but a person unquestionably sincere and passionately devoted to the cause, a person who with "the heroism of a slave" (Arsenyev's expression) bore the yoke of Plekhanovism. It was so painfully difficult that I sometimes felt I would burst into tears... When one goes to a funeral – it is easiest to cry precisely when people begin to speak words of regret, of despair...

We left P. B. and V. I. We left, had dinner, sent letters to Germany that we were going there, so they would stop the machine, even sent a telegram about it (before the conversation with Plekhanov!!), and not one of us harbored any doubt about the necessity of what we were doing.

After dinner we go again at the appointed hour to P. B. and V. P., where Plekhanov should already be. We approach, all three come out. We greet each other in silence – though Plekhanov tries to carry on a side conversation (we asked P. B. and V. I. to warn him, so he already knows everything) – we return to the room and sit down. Arsenyev begins to speak – restrainedly, dryly and briefly, that we have despaired of the possibility of conducting the work under the relations that emerged yesterday, that we have decided to go to Russia to consult with comrades there, for we no longer take the decision upon ourselves, that we must for now refuse the journal. Plekhanov is very calm, restrained, evidently completely and absolutely in control of himself, not a trace of the nervousness of Pavel Borisovich or Vera Ivanovna [he has been in worse scrapes than this! we think with malice, looking at him!]. He asks what exactly is the matter. "We find ourselves in an atmosphere of ultimatums," says Arsenyev and develops this thought somewhat. "What were you afraid of then, that I would stage a strike before issue two?" asks Plekhanov, pressing us hard. He thought we would not dare say this. But I also answer coldly and calmly: "Is this different from what A. N. said? After all, he said the very same thing". Plekhanov is evidently somewhat galled. He did not expect such a tone, such dryness and directness of accusations. – "Well, if you have decided to leave, then what is there to discuss," he says, "I have nothing to say; my position is very strange: you have nothing but impressions and impressions; you have gotten the impression that I am a bad man. Well, what can I do about it?" – "Our fault may be," I say, wishing to steer the conversation away from this "impossible" theme, "that we have overreached ourselves without sounding the ford." – "No, if we are to speak frankly," answers Plekhanov, "your fault is that you (perhaps nervousness on Arsenyev's part played a role in this) attached excessive significance to such impressions to which one should not attach significance at all." We are silent and then say that we can limit ourselves to pamphlets for now. Plekhanov grows angry: "I have not thought about pamphlets and do not think about them. Do not count on me. If you are leaving, then I will not sit idle and can undertake some other enterprise before your return".

Nothing so lowered Plekhanov in my eyes as this declaration of his, when I recalled it afterward and considered it from all sides. This was such a crude threat, so poorly calculated an intimidation, that it could only "finish him off". Plekhanov, revealing his "policy" toward us: it would be enough to frighten them thoroughly...

But we paid not the slightest attention to the threat. I only compressed my lips in silence: fine, you are like this – well then *à la guerre comme à la guerre*[146], but you are a fool if you do not see that we are no longer what we were, that we have completely been reborn in a single night.

And so, seeing that the threat does not work, Plekhanov attempts another maneuver. How else to call it a maneuver when he shortly thereafter, right there, began to speak of how a rupture with us would be equivalent for him to complete withdrawal from political activity, that he renounces it and will withdraw into science, purely scientific literature, because if-de he cannot work with us, then he cannot work with anyone... Intimidation does not work, so perhaps flattery will help!.. But after intimidation this could only produce a repellent impression... The conversation was short; nothing came of it; Plekhanov, seeing this, shifted the conversation to Russian cruelty in China, but spoke almost entirely himself, and we soon parted.

The conversation with P. B. and V. P. after Plekhanov's departure presented nothing interesting or substantial: P. B. squirmed, trying to prove to us that Plekhanov is also devastated, that now we would have sin on our souls if we left like this, and so on and so forth. V. I. in an intimate conversation with Arsenyev admitted that "George" had always been like this, admitted to her "heroism of a slave", admitted that "this will be a lesson for him" if we leave.

The remainder of the evening we spent emptily, heavily.

The next day, Tuesday, August 28, new style, we had to leave for Geneva and from there to Germany. Early in the morning Arsenyev wakes me (I usually get up late). I am surprised: he says he slept poorly and has devised one last possible combination to somehow set the matter in order, to not let a serious party enterprise perish because of damaged personal relations. We shall publish a collection – there is already material outlined, connections with the printing house are established. We shall publish a collection for now under the present uncertain editorial relations, and then we shall see: from a collection it is equally easy to transition both to a journal and to pamphlets. And if Plekhanov proves obstinate – then to the devil with him, we shall know that we did all we could... Decided.

We go to inform Pavel Borisovich and Vera Ivanovna and meet them: they were coming to us. They, of course, readily agree, and P. B. takes on the task of talking with Plekhanov and persuading him to agree.

We arrive in Geneva and conduct a final conversation with Plekhanov. He takes a tone as if there has only been a sad misunderstanding based on nervousness: he participates, asks Arsenyev about his health and almost embraces him – the latter nearly recoils. Plekhanov agrees to the collection: we say that on the question of organizing the editorial arrangement there are three possible combinations (1. we are editors, he is a contributor; 2. we are all co-editors; 3. he is editor, we are contributors), that we will discuss all three of these combinations in Russia, work out a project, and bring it here. Plekhanov declares that he absolutely refuses the 3rd combination, absolutely insists on the complete exclusion of this combination, agrees to the first two combinations. And so we decided: for now, until we present a project for the new editorial arrangement, we keep the old order (co-editors all six, with Plekhanov having two votes).

Plekhanov then expresses a desire to clarify exactly what the matter was, with what we were dissatisfied. I remark that perhaps it would be better if we paid more attention to what will be than to what was. But Plekhanov insists that we must clarify, analyze. A conversation unfolds in which almost only Plekhanov and I participate – Arsenyev and P. B. are silent. The conversation is conducted quite calmly, even perfectly calmly. Plekhanov says that he noticed that Arsenyev seemed to be irritated by his refusal regarding Struve – I remark that he, on the contrary, was setting conditions for us – contrary to his earlier declaration in the forest that he sets no conditions. Plekhanov defends himself: I remained silent not because I was setting conditions, but because the question was clear to me. I speak of the necessity of permitting polemics, of the necessity of voting among us – Plekhanov allows the latter, but says: on particular questions, of course, voting; on fundamental ones – impossible. I object that precisely the distinction between fundamental and particular questions will not always be easy, that precisely on this distinction will we need to vote among co-editors. Plekhanov insists, says that this is a matter of conscience, that the distinction between fundamental and particular questions is clear, that there is nothing to vote about here. Thus on this dispute – whether voting between co-editors is admissible on the question of distinguishing fundamental from particular questions – we became stuck, not moving a step further. Plekhanov displayed all his cleverness, all the brilliance of his examples, comparisons, jokes and citations, which involuntarily made one laugh, but he simply evaded this question, not saying directly: no. I gained the conviction that he simply could not yield here, on this point, could not renounce his "individualism" and his "ultimatums", because he would not vote on such questions but would precisely set ultimatums.

That same evening I left, having seen no one else from the "Emancipation of Labor" group. We decided not to speak of what had occurred to anyone except the closest persons – decided to maintain appearances{105} – not to let enemies triumph. Outwardly – as if nothing had happened, the whole machine should continue to move as it did – only inside some string has broken, and instead of beautiful personal relations there came business-like, dry relations, with constant calculation: by the formula *si vis pacem, para bellum*[147].

It is worth noting in the evening of that same day one conversation I had with Plekhanov's closest comrade and supporter, a member of the "Social-Democrat" group. I said not a word to him about what had occurred; I said that the journal was planned, articles appointed – it was time to get to work. I discussed with him how to practically set the matter in order: he entirely voiced the opinion that the old-timers are decisively incapable of editorial work. I discussed the "three combinations" and directly asked him: in his opinion, which is best of all? He directly and without hesitation answered: the 1st (we are editors, they are contributors), but-de, probably, the journal will be Plekhanov's, the newspaper yours.

As we moved further away from the events that had occurred, we began to relate to them more calmly and came to the conviction that it made no sense to abandon the matter entirely, that we had nothing to fear in taking on editorship (of the collection) for now, and that we must take it on, precisely we, because otherwise there is absolutely no possibility of making the machine work correctly and preventing the enterprise from perishing from Plekhanov's disorganizing "qualities".

Upon arrival in N{106}, September 4 or 5, we had already worked out a project of formal relations between us (I had begun writing this project even on the way, in the railway car), and this project made us editors, them contributors with voting rights on all editorial questions[148]. This project was decided to be discussed jointly with Egor (Martov), and then be presented to them.

Iskra began to give hope of flaring up again.

Written in early September (new style) 1900.

First published in 1924 in Leninskii sbornik I

Printed from the manuscript